


The Flavor of Midnight

by eurydice72



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rimming, Smut, tit fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydice72/pseuds/eurydice72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana wants only one thing when she seeks Merlin out: to collect the debt he incurred when he tried to kill her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flavor of Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the KMM prompt, _Merlin/Morgana, grudge-fuck._

Even the stars hid away.

Merlin stared up at the heavy skies, his hands folded beneath his head, his thoughts anywhere but on the sentry duty he’d been assigned to perform. Around him, Arthur and Camelot’s battle-weary knights curled up against the cold and slept. They had another two days march before they reached home, two days of disappointment, two days of worn nerves. If they were lucky, they’d make it without incident. Luck, however, had not been a frequent visitor for months.

This sojourn had been one of the most fruitless and frustrating of the dozens they’d taken since Morgana’s disappearance, but only Arthur remained hopeful of eventual success. His rallying speeches were what bound the men together when Cenred’s armies interfered with their searches, and if Merlin didn’t quite believe Arthur was as optimistic about pursuing Uther’s commands as he made himself out to be, he certainly believed in his sire’s passion for success.

Maintaining the pretense that Merlin carried the same hope grew harder with each passing day. Because the longer Morgana was gone, the greater the possibility she was lost to them forever.

Regret weighted every emotion thinking of Morgana summoned. She haunted his days with Arthur’s endless hunts and his nights with his own relentless dreams. Not all of them were re-enactments of those last moments in Camelot, when she’d stared at him with such anguished disbelief. He could almost tolerate those. They were the truth, after all.

The dreams that tormented him most were the ones when she looked at him through heavy lids, full lips parted and wet with expectation, breaths short and shallow for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with the poison he’d given her and everything to do with him.

He’d had them before. _Before._ Funny how the world cleaved into two on the basis of a single choice. But before, the occasional fantasy about Morgana hadn’t left him aching like this. He’d dreamt of her smile and her laughter and the creamy curve of her breasts. In those dreams, she teased him into coming to her chambers, then moaned with unrestrained delight when he sank to his knees and buried his face between her soft thighs.

These images were anything but soft.

Sighing, Merlin rolled onto his side, trying to ignore the dull throb of his lower half. It was too cold to entertain the notion of sneaking off to relieve the ache, even though experience told him it would be a hollow respite anyway. Touching himself opened the door to visions of her, strengthened by his weakness. With enemies lurking behind every tree, it was foolhardy, too. Arthur would never forgive him if they lost more men on Merlin’s watch.

He couldn’t afford to lose Arthur, too. If he did, what would have been the point of sacrificing Morgana?

A slight breeze tickled across his cheek. He longed for his bed, for the sanctuary of the castle walls, if only to hide from the fears that plagued him whenever they ventured out again. The stars had it right sometimes. It wasn’t always necessary to shine bright and guide the way. He couldn’t help but wonder, though. If he’d ignored Gaius’s directive to keep his secret from Morgana, would things have turned out differently?

The wind stole the moisture from his eyeballs, but blinking didn’t banish the icy burn. He ground the heel of his hand into one eye, then the other. The pressure helped. At least until he stopped.

Because when he did, he could have sworn he saw Morgana.

She stood like a wraith at the edge of the trees, a rich cloak cocooning her from the elements. The hood was up, hiding her hair, but her pale face was clearly visible, her solemn gaze locked on Merlin. The distance did nothing to hide the glittering fury in its blue-green depths, and though her features might have otherwise remained a chilling mask, her hatred seethed like snakes between them.

He stiffened and sat up. The moment he did, she took a step backward and merged with the darkness.

A figment of his imagination. She had to be. He glanced around, but nobody else stirred. Only the dying fire showed signs of life, the last errant flames dancing with the breeze. The knights continued to sleep because nothing had disturbed them. Specters didn’t make noise. Neither did hallucinations. The Morgana he’d seen had to be one or the either.

He needed to be sure. Pushing the blanket off his legs, he kept a keen eye on the others lest he made an unwanted noise. The chill didn’t seem so bad once he stood, but he didn’t know if that was an illusion of the night or symptomatic of his own rushing blood.

His breath locked in his chest, forbidden to escape until he disappeared into the forest. Each step felt like an eternity. _Part of my duty. If someone is here, I need to know so I can alert the others._ But he only partially believed that. The truth was, he needed the answer for his own peace of mind.

Above his head, the trees whispered amongst themselves, drawing him deeper into the woods. Shadows shifted and changed from safe to serpentine and back to safe again. He kept his tread as light as possible, but every time the earth crunched beneath his heel, a shiver ran down his spine. He saw nothing that could be Morgana. He didn’t even see something he could have mistaken for her. His fears and guilt were playing tricks on him, and he really should get back to the camp in case Arthur woke up and realized Merlin was no longer at his—

A flash of white through the trees halted him in his tracks. He remained still as a shape edged around the spindly trunks, only his heart continuing its thunderous momentum. Smudged edges sharpened, and when the pale glimpse returned, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but watch Morgana step toward him, her sensual mouth tight and sullen.

“Are you real?” he whispered.

The corner of her lips curved into a knowing smirk. “It would be so much easier for you if I wasn’t, now wouldn’t it?”

Both _yes_ and _no_ carried enough truth to make the other a lie.

“You can’t be speechless, Merlin.” She continued forward without a sound, almost like she floated above the ground. Even her heavy cloak gave nothing away. “You always have something to say, regardless of whether anyone wants to hear it or not.”

“We’ve been…searching for you.”

“We? Don’t you mean Arthur? Because I can’t imagine you’re in any hurry to have me home again.” For every step she gained, he knew he should retreat, but his feet remained glued to the ground, his eyes locked on her as she filled his vision, his head, his world. “You were in such a hurry to get rid of me the last time we saw each other.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t like that.”

“So you didn’t try and kill me?”

“I needed to save Camelot. It was the only way.”

“You wanted to save _Arthur_.” All of a sudden, she was right in front of him, very much solid, very much alive. “It’s always about Arthur.”

His throat constricted. The words had to fight to get out. “He’s the prince. Camelot’s future depends on him.”

“So he can perpetuate Uther’s crimes?” Flashes of gold sparked in her eyes. When he instinctively flinched, ready to defend himself, she laughed. “What are you so afraid of, Merlin? Not me, surely.”

“No.” Though he was, a little. He feared her unpredictability and mourned the loss of the woman he’d first met upon his arrival at court. “I should wake Arthur. He’ll want to know—”

Her hand shot out and grabbed his arm, her fingers oddly painful where they curled like talons around him. He tried to jerk away, but her grip tightened, the strength of his pull yanking her flush against his body.

“You’ll do no such thing,” she murmured. “I didn’t sneak away for Arthur. I came for you.”

The cloak had opened with the force of them coming together, and now its hems flapped against Merlin’s legs, threatening to envelop him as well. Heat like he’d never imagined emanated from her skin, her hand searing through his shirt. Now that she was so close, the pink stain in her cheeks was clear, proof she wasn’t a ghost after all. As if the press of her soft breasts weren’t already proof enough.

“What do you want?” He matched her tone. If he woke Arthur, and the prince chose this moment to stumble across them, he wasn’t sure how he’d explain their intimate posture without giving away what he’d done. Or even if Morgana wouldn’t betray him at the first opportunity. 

“Such an impossible question.” Her gaze drifted from his, seeking out the details of his mouth, his neck, then back to his eyes again. “I want so much, Merlin. You can’t even imagine.”

“Then don’t make me.”

“You think I should make it easy for you?” Her free hand came up to his chest, flattening over his heart. She stared at it as if it was something new, as if the shape and shade of her fingers splayed across his red shirt took her by surprise with their existence. “I’ve spent more time than you can imagine wondering what I’d do to you, given the chance.” Without lifting her chin, she looked up at him through her lashes, trapping him more thoroughly than her body did. “Do you think of me, Merlin? When you fall asleep at night, do you remember what you did?”

“Yes.” His single word confession was a puff of air, meant to dissipate as soon as it was given form. He hadn’t even talked to Gaius about what had happened in those hours, though he doubted Gaius would be sympathetic to his turmoil. He worried for Merlin’s safety should the truth ever come to light, but he still believed that Merlin had done what was necessary for the greater good. Merlin did, too. That didn’t mean he had to like it. Or like himself for failing to find an alternate solution. “I dream of it.”

“So do I. Mine are nightmares.”

“Mine, too.”

Her fingers twitched at his solemn admission, and her breath audibly caught for a moment. “I always thought you were my friend. I thought…” Her lashes dipped to her hand. Slowly, her nails curled inward, digging into his chest. Even through the fabric, they hurt, the pressure more excruciating than the scratches, but he bore them silently, waiting to hear what she would say next. She swallowed once, the delicate column of her throat a throb as tenuous as those in his body. When she spoke again, her voice had found new strength. “Morgause has plans for you, you know. She’ll never forgive you for poisoning me.”

The way she phrased it, he almost wondered if _Morgana_ could forgive him. He’d bear Morgause’s wrath as much as he had to if he could just get Morgana to understand.

“It’s Morgause’s fault—”

“No!”

Her nails raked along his chest as her hand made a fist. It would have hurt if she hadn’t scraped over his nipple, but the raw contact transformed from pain to a jolt, one that skittered across his skin like a stone skipping over a calm lake. It settled in his groin, the old familiar desire returning with a vengeance. He tried to will it away. This wasn’t the time or the place, and this Morgana wasn’t the young woman he had once known. But his flesh refused to obey, and his heart denied what his head argued it should believe.

“This is _Uther’s_ fault,” she went on. “He doesn’t deserve to be king of Camelot. His tyranny has gone unchecked for too long. Morgause did what she had to.”

“Morgause did what she wanted to. There’s a difference.”

“And that makes her different from the rest of us how?” Now, when she met his eyes, she did so in defiance, proud and beautiful and so fierce that it almost hurt to look at her. “Name me a selfless person. Just one. I dare you.” She barely paused to give him time to answer, not that he could if he was being honest with himself. “Even you, Merlin. You might claim to have Camelot’s best interests at heart, but in the end, you’re just like the rest of us. You choose to serve Arthur, because he’ll be king someday. Regardless of whether or not others would treat you better.”

He couldn’t refute her. Doing so would mean explaining about his and Arthur’s destiny—unthinkable in and of itself—but it would also mean lying. Because she had a point, even if it wasn’t the one she intended. He could have walked away from Arthur many times, and yet, chose to stay. Life back in Ealdor was boring but often better for his peace of mind. Even simply serving Gaius would get him away from Arthur’s sometimes narrow-minded perspectives on what it meant to treat a servant well.

“So I’m selfish,” he said. “That still doesn’t justify what you did. What Morgause did. I might not agree with Uther’s dictates, but you were sacrificing innocent lives in the name of revenge. I’ll never believe that’s the right thing to do.”

“Just a single life, then?” Her voice had gone dangerously soft. “Because you had little problem sacrificing me.”

“You’re wrong. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” He lifted his free hand and rested it on her shoulder. Through the heavy velvet, small tremors rippled through her body. He wanted to pull her even closer and soothe them all away, but the best he could do was this simple touch. “I’ve made so many mistakes, Morgana. Things I wish I could go back and change, things I wish I could do better. One of them is…being a better friend for you. Maybe, if I’d done that, we wouldn’t be here now.”

For all her courtly manners, Morgana had never been very good at hiding her emotions. He’d often thought that was part of her allure, the way the things she felt and thought surged just below the surface, threatening to escape. They gave passion to her beauty, and incited men to attempt to corral them. Now was no different. Even under the shade of nightfall, without the benefit of full light, they played across her face, a mixture of hope and sorrow and anger that left her lower lip quivering. Her eyes locked on Merlin, surely searching for lies, but he remained still and silent, allowing her the time it took to know he meant every word.

“I don’t think where I am now is so terrible,” she said. “I have a sister I never knew about, freedom to do whatever it is I wish.”

“But are you happy?”

Maybe, if he could convince her that life in Camelot didn’t need to be as bad as she thought it was, he could put an end to Arthur’s hunts for her, and bring peace back to the kingdom. He could even help her with her magic, show her that things would be different under Arthur’s rule if she only waited. Gaius wouldn’t be happy about that, but perhaps this was one thing Gaius didn’t need to know. Merlin was an expert at secrets. He could share this one with Morgana.

When she didn’t answer right away, he pressed on. “I know you hate Uther. I know you want to see him pay. But there are people in Camelot who love you, who’ve missed you, who want you to come home. Gwen, for instance. And Arthur. He hasn’t stopped looking for you.”

“Still speaking for others, I see.”

“Only because they’re not here to speak for themselves.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

Her head tilted to the side, her eyes narrowing in shrewd contemplation. “You can’t want me back. You’d spend the rest of your life in fear of being found out.”

“I already live like that.”

His attempts weren’t working. She was just as rigid as she’d been at the start, and now they tread in dangerous territory, the issues of his magic be damned. With careful deliberation, he rested his hand over hers and unpeeled her fingers from his arm. Once he was free, he took a small step back, escaping the heat his body soaked up from her nearness.

“It’s your decision, Morgana. But I can’t believe you’d go to such lengths to see me if some part of you didn’t want to return to Camelot.”

Turning his back on her was almost as hard as poisoning her had been. His mouth tasted of grit, and his heart ached, but this was the only way. He made it a single step before the wind returned in a violent gale, Morgana’s furious shriek joining its high-pitched cry.

Flames leapt up in front of him, barring his path back to camp. Merlin threw his arm over his eyes, shielding them from the heat, but when he whirled to confront Morgana, he faced an empty clearing. The fire stretched in a wide ring surrounding it, and though he heard its crackle and saw the way it licked up the skeletal trees, the forest itself remained untouched. He couldn’t smell smoke, either. Not a real fire, then, but when he turned back to jump through it, he collided into a soft, warm body and fell to the ground.

Morgana arched above him. Her hood had slipped down, allowing her loose hair to fall free and curtain around them as she bent closer. Nails clawed into his shoulders to pin him to the packed earth, while her strong thighs bracketed his hips, lining up their lower halves.

“I won’t let you go to Arthur,” she hissed. “Though you two certainly deserve each other.”

He tried to buck her off, but she tightened her legs around him, grinding into his erection whether she meant to or not. “Are you going to take me back to Morgause, then? Let her follow through on her plans for me?”

A knowing gleam appeared in her eyes, matched by her sly smile. “Who said Morgause even knows I’m here?”

He froze. He hadn’t considered that possibility. But why would she sneak away and still refuse to come home? If she was so content, why the need for duplicity at all?

“What do you want?”

She leaned in until her breath was his. “You,” she whispered. “You owe me, Merlin. And I intend to collect.”

So shocked by his new knowledge, he didn’t feel the slow gyrations of her hips until after her mouth was practically on his. She rubbed small circles into the long line of his cock, torturing him with the hints of what it would feel like without the confinement of all their heavy clothing. And though she was only a scant inch or two away, he refused to close his eyes. Anger like he’d never seen made hers glow from within, but the raw desire beneath it mesmerized him. Was it real? He could be imagining it. Slapping labels onto something that wasn’t really there to justify actions he didn’t quite understand.

But Morgana was still moving, and now, her strong hands had crept higher, cradling his head, threading through his hair to prevent him from turning away from her. As if he actually wanted to.

“You think I didn’t notice how you watched me?” Her breath smelled sweet, like the sugar in his favorite cakes Cook would occasionally allow him to sneak out of the kitchen. “Always there in the background, always following me whenever I’d walk into a room.”

His tongue darted out to moisten his suddenly dry lips. Big mistake. He accidentally brushed across Morgana’s and tasted the sweetness for himself. “Every man watches you, Morgana. You make it impossible not to.”

“Arthur told me once you had feelings for me. And that I should let you down easily.” She laughed, and the vibrations through her body created echoes in his, especially where her soft breasts crushed against his chest. “He was so jealous.”

“Why?” He couldn’t even think with her like this. Everything overwhelmed him, making it impossible to see anything but her, smell anything but her, taste anything but her.

“The center of Arthur’s world is Arthur. He couldn’t stand the fact that you might have interests that weren’t all about him.”

“Arthur’s not like that.”

“You don’t think he’d use it to his advantage if he thought it would keep you bound to him?” Her head tipped. For a second, he was certain she was going to kiss him, but then her lips scalded a slipslide down his cheek to rest at his ear. “I’ve seen him, you know. When we were younger. When he thought it was just him and his knights and he was such a good boy that he’d never even consider taking advantage of a girl to satisfy himself. Now, a knight on the other hand…”

Her voice trailed off, but the images she evoked burst into life anyway. Arthur with another man’s cock in his hand. Arthur thrusting into a willing mouth. Arthur bent over a strong back—

“You’re lying,” he choked out. “I would’ve seen it.”

“Perhaps.” She traced the tip of her tongue around the outer curve of his ear. Shivers rattled through him, all the way to his toes. “It doesn’t feel like you hate the idea, though.”

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut. She was right. His cock throbbed more than it had before.

“Aren’t you going to ask why I never brought it up with you, Merlin?”

He struggled to remember what it was she referred to. It took several seconds to recall what had prompted this specific line of conversation, but then he couldn’t get her words out of his head. 

“Why?”

When she bit into his earlobe, his entire body jolted away from the ground. “Because I liked that you watched me,” she murmured. “At night, when my nightmares would wake me up, the only way for me to go back to sleep would be to think of you. I’d touch myself and pretend it was you.”

His groan was swallowed by the swift seal of her mouth to his, her demanding tongue forcing its way past his lips, stealing what little breath he could muster. As he gave himself over to the kiss, his hands settled on her covered thighs, only because he had no idea where else to put them. He itched to touch her bare skin, to feel it flame beneath his fingertips, but he was effectively caged by her, pinned to the ground to writhe beneath her onslaught.

Magic might have got him free. Or if he tried brute strength.

He hated both options. As much for what they would do to Morgana as for the fact that he really didn’t want to make her stop.

Nails scratched against his scalp, sharpening the edge of her ravenous kisses. He slid his palms around the back of her thighs, but at the first tightening of his grip, she yanked away, staring down at him with her eyes ablaze.

“You owe _me_.” Abruptly, she released his head and sat up. Her hands flew to the fastenings on her cloak and began to open them. “And if you dare to dictate how I take my payment, I swear I’ll skin you alive.”

The certainty of her promise hung between them. The best he could manage was a curt nod.

The cloak fell free, and she tossed the garment aside to slide down the length of his legs. He expected her to stop, but she never did, kneeling instead on the ground between them. Her lips moved, and though he heard the whisperings of her chant, the specifics were lost in the roar of the fire that still surrounded them.

Magic sparked across his body, leaving a tingle in its wake. His clothes were gone, and he gasped at the hard scratch of branches across his naked buttocks.

Sheer pleasure radiated in her smile. “I’ve learned a few tricks while I’ve been away.” Dragging her nail up the top of his thigh, she skirted inward when she reached the crease of hip and leg, tracing around the bottom of his balls. “Some of them, I knew before I left, though.”

His legs parted of their own volition when she caressed the skin behind his sac. At his sides, he fisted the loose debris of the forest floor, desperate for anything that would keep him from grabbing her. Questions tumbled inside his head, most of them only half-formed, all of them burning with the same desires. He understood none of this. All he knew was that he didn’t want it to end.

“You’d like me to touch you.” She said it as statement, not inquiry, but he jerked a nod anyway. “How exactly does that pay me back for nearly killing me, though? I’m not sure it does.”

“You said…” His voice croaked, and he coughed lightly to try and clear it. “You came here for me,” he managed. “Do you mean to humiliate me for Arthur to find?”

Her laughter was like glass shattering over his bare skin. “As tempting as that is, no. I came here to kill you.”

Without looking away, she drew lazy circles in the same oversensitive spot, around and around until he thought he would go mad for wanting more. His throat constricted when she licked at her bottom lip, but a whimper still managed to escape.

He gritted his teeth to try and keep his head together. “Funny way of doing it.”

“That’s because I’ve changed my mind.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“I thought that was obvious.” Her finger slid down, into the cleft, grazing over the surface of his hole. He reacted on instinct, tightening and clenching against the possible intrusion, but when it skimmed back over again in the opposite direction, the muscles turned to water, opening up to accept it. “I think it’s obvious to you, too.”

If she’d been a man, he’d know exactly what her plan was. But Morgana didn’t have a cock, and for all her dangerous teasing, it was literally impossible for her to follow through.

He braced his heels against the ground. He’d call her bluff, because that’s what it had to be. “I still fail to see how this pays you back for what I did. You get nothing from it.”

“Oh, but I do.” She concentrated solely on his opening now, the same circles she’d made behind his balls now tracing around the willing muscle. “I get to show you how weak you really are. How easy it is to break you with just a few carefully chosen touches. When I walk away, we both get to know how easy it is to bend you to what _I_ want, regardless of what you might have managed to get away with in Camelot.”

“All that proves is that I’m a man and you’re a beautiful woman,” he countered. “Animal instincts. That’s all.”

For the first time since setting the fire, she faltered. Her finger settled along his hole, her nostrils flaring in betrayal of her rapid breath. With strands of her hair floating around her in symphony with the wind, she seemed even more otherworldly than usual, a creature of the night that was trying to venture out into the day. It might have been an effect of the magic, too, a shroud she wore far more proudly now. Would others see it as clearly as he did? Perhaps returning to Camelot was not in her best interest after all, if she was so determined to announce her true self. Uther would have her killed, regardless of his love for her.

She withdrew her hand, a loss he wished he didn’t have to know. “They might be just animal instincts.” Rising to her feet, she smoothed her palms down her skirts as more whispers fell from her lips. A flash of gold, a wave of heat…and she stood above him, naked and statuesque, her skin a swathe of pale perfection in the firelight. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’ll have to live with the knowledge of what you’ve done. Every morning when you wake up, you’ll know what it feels like to be at the mercy of the woman you tried to destroy.” She walked around to his head and crouched down behind it, her hair falling to tickle along his cheeks as she ran her fingers over his nose and mouth, the same fingers she’d had between his legs. The smell of his own sweaty flesh mingled with the more delicate scent of her skin, and he watered for a taste when she touched his lips. “Because I’m going to take my pleasure from you tonight, Merlin, and then I’m going to leave you with the knowledge that I’ll return at any moment to take back what’s mine.”

He shuddered at her calm declaration, but any retort he might have made was cut off by her knees settling on either side of his head, her thighs flanking his cheeks. They glistened with moisture, the same dewy moisture that beaded in the dark curls framing her pussy. He had only a moment to drink in its rosy beauty before she lowered her body and her wet folds brushed over his mouth.

The scent of her desire overpowered him. Without thinking, he lunged forward, lips already parted as his tongue dragged across her slit. His taste buds exploded at the musky sweetness, and he licked again, eager to finally satisfy the cravings his dreams had elicited for months.

“Yes...” Morgana moaned. 

She rocked against his face, smearing the evidence of her arousal over his skin. She practically laid along his body, her breasts rubbing against his stomach, and he dared to lift his hands to grasp her hips, pulling her ass cheeks farther apart to sensitize her to his touch. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Her voice sounded from far away, muffled by the way she covered him. “I wager you’d love to take me there.”

He couldn’t answer even if there was a way to do it without rousing her ire. Now that he had his mouth exactly where he wanted, he had no intention of stopping.

When she ran her tongue down the length of his cock, however, he almost threw his resolve out the window. He bucked upward, and Morgana gripped his hips to force him back to the ground again. 

“Please...” he said. Her scent would fill his nose for days to come, if he ever managed to forget it at all.

“Please what?”

She wanted him to beg, but he saw no reason to yield to her command, not any more than he already was. Instead, he nudged upward, parting her labia, and caught her clit between his teeth.

Her cry pierced the air, her body arching away from him and leaving him cold. He held on more tightly, unwilling to let her escape, and flicked his tongue over the tiny bud. She responded with wracking shudders and fresh droplets of moisture onto his lips, and then her breasts crashed into him again, her arms scooping around his hips to tilt his pelvis up and toward her mouth.

She didn’t touch his cock. That rested between them, nestled between her full breasts, engulfed by her feet. Her attack was more insidious, and all that more devastating for it.

Hot lips wrapped around his balls, sucking them into the swelter of her ready mouth. He released her clit and gulped for breath, his heels digging into the ground. One thought— _more_ —consumed every other, and he thrust upward, groaning when the pre-come dripping from his cock slicked a path for it to glide easily between her breasts.

They remained locked like that for an eternity. The pressure on his balls grew while the heat exploded beneath his skin. Nothing had ever felt so good. Not losing his virginity to Will’s sister before he left for Camelot. Not jerking off behind the stables to images of Morgana splayed naked across her bed. Not even the dreams that found the most inconvenient times to torment him. The one thing to make it better was to return to his feast, long drags of his tongue over her slit, deliberate glances across her clit that made her squirm.

He was barely aware that her hands were creeping close to his ass again. He only noticed when she released his sac and licked down the tender skin behind his balls straight to his hole.

His stomach lurched at the sensation. She made no qualms about the sounds she made, tiny, hungry whimpers that came between each pass over the opening. Merlin nibbled at her tender lips, trying to maintain some modicum of control, but she made it next to impossible. Each time she licked around it, she ended with a broad sweep over, loosening and relaxing the muscle until he thought he’d scream in frustration.

Begging didn’t seem so out of the question any more.

A distraction. That’s what he needed. But everything he thought of, Morgana countered with her own. When he flicked across her clit, she scratched his inner thigh. When he sucked the juices from her pussy, she went back to his balls. And when he thrust his tongue as deep inside her as he could get…

Fire exploded behind his eyes at the entry of her pointed, hot tongue. She pushed in until her teeth scraped against him, moaning when he clamped down around her. His body did what it wanted to—short strokes that allowed his cock to slide between her breasts, hands roaming up and down her back so he could map its contour for the cold nights to come.

Morgana moved, too, fucking him with quick drives, grinding her cunt against his teeth and tongue. Her breath got hotter, each inhalation more shallow than its predecessor, and her guttural cries became almost constant.

Those were his favorite. She might be able to fake the rest of it, but those were too raw to be anything but genuine.

His orgasm came from nowhere. As intoxicating as all of it was, he hadn’t anticipated finding a release without more direct contact, pressure around his cock from a hand or pussy or mouth, anything but this searing friction that left his skin ready to dissolve. But here, too, she surprised him. His balls tightened at the brush of her fingers, and the delve of her tongue triggered a shout that should’ve brought the knights running. He came undone, a rush of pure sensation uncontained by mortal flesh, and clung to her sweat-filmed body in a bid not to fly apart completely.

Moments later, she echoed his reaction. Cream flooded his mouth, the rippling of her delicate inner walls cascading through him. When she rested her cheek against his thigh, harsh breath fanning over his flushed skin, he wished he could see her, to witness the vulnerability she so rarely displayed even if it lasted for a single second. But he could barely summon the strength to hold onto her, let alone adjust their positions so she faced him rather than his cock. The best he could do was wrap his arms around her hips and keep her close.

He could have stayed like that for hours, but Morgana was having none of it. Too soon, her legs tensed, and her weight shifted, her nails almost claws into his watery legs as she pushed herself up.

“Morgana—”

“Don’t.” Though her tone was icy, a tremor modulated her voice into something softer. She scrambled the rest of the way from him and turned toward the fire. A sweep of her hand and everything magical disappeared—the fire, their nakedness. As she bent over to pick up her cloak, he might have imagined none of it had even happened if it wasn’t for the taste of her lingering on his tongue. His face was still sticky from her orgasm, his nose overwhelmed by her scent. It had most definitely been real. Whether she was willing to admit to it or not.

“So now what?” He sat up, not trusting his legs to support his weight yet. “You’re just going to leave?”

“Of course.” She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Why on earth would I want to stay?”

A thousand reasons sprang to mind. Only one found voice.

“Because Morgause could never love you the way we do.”

Her condescending smile faded, and a glimmer of the hope he’d seen earlier returned. His own hope surged at the sight of it. Perhaps all was not lost after all.

Then her jaw firmed, and she lifted her chin in haughty defiance. “Good night, Merlin. And remember what I told you. Because I most certainly will.”

She dissolved into the darkness, as silently as she’d arrived. He could have chased after her. He could show her she wasn’t the only one with powers, and drag her back to Arthur, kicking and screaming the entire way. But pursuit was pointless for the time being, and not just because he knew he couldn’t predict how she’d react once in Arthur’s custody, if she’d reveal all of Merlin’s secrets and then laugh when Uther had him executed.

_I’ll return at any moment to take back what’s mine._

He believed her.


End file.
